CHAPTER FIVE
752 Words
ARIANA'S POV
I wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something at his perfect face.
"What exactly would this... arrangement involve?"
"You would move into the estate. Attend social events with me, act as my fiancée in public, convince my business associates and certain other parties that our relationship is genuine."
"For six months."
"Yes."
"And then you'll tell me about my parents."
"Everything. Every detail. Every answer to every question you've had for the past twelve years."
I paced across the room. I tried to think clearly through the panic and desperation fighting for control of my brain.
"This is insane," I repeated.
"You realize this is completely insane, right?"
"Nevertheless, it's the offer. Do you accept or not?"
I turned to face him.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you leave. Go back to your life. Continue wondering about your parents. Continue having nightmares about that night. Continue building your carefully constructed existence around a hole you can never fill because you don't understand what you lost."
The words cut deep because they were true. Every single one.
"How do I know you'll actually tell me the truth? How do I know this isn't some elaborate game?"
"You don't," Lucien said simply.
"You'll have to trust me."
"Trust you?" I laughed. It sounded bitter even to my own ears.
"I don't even know you."
"No. But I know you, Ariana Vale. I know you've spent twelve years searching for answers. I know you witnessed something that night that nobody believes happened. I know you changed your name and built a new identity trying to escape your past. And I know you'll do almost anything to finally understand what happened to Thomas and Miranda."
My blood ran cold.
"How do you know all that?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes!"
He was quiet for a moment. Then he walked to his desk and pulled out a thick stack of papers.
"This is a contract. Twenty pages detailing the exact terms of our arrangement. You're welcome to read it. I'd even recommend having a lawyer look it over before signing."
He held it out to me. I took it with shaking hands.
The paper was heavy, expensive looking.
I stared at the first page. I tried to focus on the words. But they blurred together.
All I could think about was my parents. About finally knowing what happened. About getting answers after twelve years of questions that ate away at me every single day.
"I need time to think," I said.
"Of course. Take all the time you need." Lucien's voice was calm.
"But I'll need your answer by midnight tonight. After that, the offer expires."
I looked up at him sharply.
"That's not enough time."
"It's more than enough time to decide whether you want answers or not, Miss Vale."
He was right and I hated him for it. This wasn't a decision that needed days or weeks. It was simple and clear.
Did I want to know the truth about my parents badly enough to spend six months pretending to be engaged to a stranger?
"Can I ask you something?" My voice came out quieter than I intended.
"Of course."
"Why six months specifically?"
"That's how long I need."
"Need for what?"
"That's not your concern."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand real explanations. But something in his expression told me he wouldn't budge.
I looked down at the contract in my hands. Twenty pages that could change my entire life.
"I'll give you my answer before midnight," I heard myself say.
"Excellent. Elena will show you out."
As if on cue, the door opened and Elena appeared. Still looking like she could break me in half without breaking a sweat.
I followed her back through the maze of hallways. Back through the entrance hall with its impossible wealth. Back down the driveway lined with trees. Back to the gate that swung open silently to let me through.
I stood outside the estate with the contract clutched in my shaking hands and my mind racing.
Six months for the truth. Six months of lying for twelve years of answers.
I walked to the train station in a daze.
Rode back to the city staring at nothing. I walked to my apartment slowly still thinking of the decision I had to make.
Once inside I spread the contract out on my tiny kitchen table. I tried to read it carefully. I tried to understand what I was agreeing to.
But the words kept swimming.
- Writer
